


Of Mannerisms and Miscalculations

by mobilisinmobili



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Bullying, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Crack Treated Seriously, Fist Fights, Friendship, Hazing, Justice, Misunderstandings, Parent Victor Nikiforov, Post-Grand Prix Final, Protective Victor Nikiforov, Revenge, Sassy, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Suspension, Team as Family, Teenagers, University, charity events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19435489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: The one where Yuri Plisetsky nearly gets himself arrested because someone apparently lived under a goddamn rock..Or.The podium fam relocates to the US for a week for a charity fundraiser and find that Yuri has more ‘gracious professionalism’ in his angry Russian pinky than most people his age.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I needed something crack-ish and completely unconnected to write between updating TSW and EC

“ _Ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention please. On behalf of Aeroflot we would like to extend an apology for the delay. Our flight has now been approved and we will begin boarding in the next fifteen minutes. SkyTeam Priority Alliance members can begin queuing to board. Thank you.”_

“Finally!” Yuri hissed, ripping out the other earbud as he stood to start collecting his carryon. 

Victor groaned happily, stretching in his seat before glancing around the priority lounge they’d been caged in for the past five hours.

“We’ll land a little before lunch time at this rate. That means we’ve got to get some rest on the plane since we won’t be able to rest before the event.” Yuuri stated as he tapped through his phone, recalculating the time.

“We’ll meet up with the travel team and they’ll drive us over to the venue and we’ll have lunch there. But since it’s day one they’ll let us leave around four.” Yuri and Victor nodded in sync, beyond thankful to have someone so on top of things, especially with Yakov not coming along to handle the logistics. 

“But we won’t have access to the rink until the next morning, unless you’re okay with sharing the ice with the collegiate team. NYU says that only their core skaters will be practicing so it shouldn’t be too stuffy. But if not, the ice will be free for the other skaters in the charity even from five to eight AM.” 

“That’s nice of them to offer to share the ice.” Victor murmured standing as he pocketed his passport and ticket. 

“Are _they_ okay with it or was it the school’s decision?” Yuri asked gruffly, doing the same. 

Yuuri shrugged. 

“Probably the school. I mean, I can’t imagine the individual skaters having too much power over the school’s rink. Especially when the school is co-hosting the event.”

Victor took one last glance around to make sure nothing was forgotten before sweeping forward, more than ready to get out of the upscale cage.

Skating had taught them so many things. _Too_ many to list. Some were more important than others. More useful in terms of everyday life. 

Like professional mannerisms that were expected when they were out in public, be it out on the streets or traveling in and out of the country. They were known athletes first and foremost leaving them vulnerable to public scrutiny anytime and anywhere. 

There were angles upon angles. Ways to present themselves when they were walking or sitting or eating. Words to use and words _specifically_ banned outside the confines of their own private places and the rink. How to handle expressions. How to avoid the seemingly unavoidable ‘resting murder face’ as Mila and Georgi had teased Yuri about countless times. 

But even Yakov was proud to say that he was starting to get the hang of things, getting his spitfire attitude to a camera acceptable coolness. There was a _lot_ less cursing and glaring. More neutral expressions and even a smile here and there, even if it was a little tight. 

It was far from the angry pubescent teen he was when he first entered the senior division with Victor and Yuuri, and at eighteen, he mellowed out pretty well.

“ _Passport and tickets please_.”

They all took a moment to grab the two, filing into line with the other first class ticket holders, mostly older businessmen in their dark flat suits with their dark flat shoes and briefcases. 

The three athletes almost stood out a little _too_ much, especially with their noticeably _non_ business attire of joggers and long sleeves and exercise jackets in various sporty colors to match their bright top of the line sneakers. 

They practically _screamed_ athlete. 

But it was who they were so self conscious caring had gone out the window many competitions ago. Right now they were just focused on getting on to the damn flight and wiping out because it was nearly 12:30 in the early morning and the flight should have left at five hours ago at seven PM. 

But the mask of professionalism stayed firmly put until everyone had been boarded and the plane had successfully taken off. And then they were all dead to the world. 

* * *

‘ _Dead to the world_ ’ stopped immediately when Yuri felt something nudge him gently on the shoulder, sending him jolting awake swallowing the curses as the apologies were poised at the tip of his tongue. 

It was what they were taught to do, or at least be cognizant of the possibility that they may have been in a non professional state or did something that warranted rebuffing even in their sleep. Say knocking something over or snoring just a little _too_ loud. 

But his jolt of worry was put to rest when a stewardess leaned in, asking him if he wanted to have his breakfast now or later on. 

“Have it now, Yura. It’s nearly seven and we’ve already gotten scheduled to have lunch with the rest. That and you’ve still got that paperwork to fill out as well. Should get that done.” Victor craned over the food and beverage cart to address Yuri who nodded, bringing his table down, ordering and thanking the stewardess as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. 

“And a-oh...uh-and a coke as well please.” 

Victor and Yuuri were already sharing quiet chuckles at Yuuri’s split second expression of irritation at the fact that he remembered he wasn’t technically old enough to order drinks like he could back at home. 

“I’d like a beer as well as a glass of apple juice please.” Yuuri requested with a smile. 

“And for you, sir?” the stewardess turned to Victor. 

“Just water for me, please.” he nodded in thanks as she poured him a glass. 

“Now-” Yuuri picked up the beer and handed it to Victor who quirked a brow in confusion before things clicked with a chuckled, “oh.” 

“Yura, if you would be so kind to let me have your coke.” Yuuri gave it over, starting slightly as Victor pressed the beer in his hands, bringing the coke to his lips to take a swig. 

“What Yakov doesn’t know will probably lengthen his life. Or his hairline… I still don’t understand how people drink multiple cans of this a day.” he stared at the bright red can in fascinated terror. 

“But more importantly, why a beer at seven in the morning?” he quirked a brow at Yuri who had just gotten the can open. 

“I just realized I’ll be around people my age…” 

“And…?” 

He leveled Victor with a flat stare. 

“Have you _been_ around people my age?” 

“Ye-”

“Other than me.” 

Yuuri let out a quiet laugh. 

“Teenagers aren’t _that_ bad Yuri. I mean, look at yourself. Practically an adult. And it’s not like you’ve got to fraternize with them. We’re just sharing the space. And the only other people around your age you’ll have to worry about are the other skaters coming to this event.” he gave Yuri a thumbs up. 

*“He wasn’t there for that camp in Australia, was he…”

Victor thought a moment before remembering, eyes lighting up at the memory. 

“Oh yeah! Oh Yuuri, you truly missed one of the _funniest_ things ever!” he wiped the tears from his eyes as he continued to remember. 

“Yeah. Remember that? Remember? Kids _my_ age.” Yuri shuddered. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Victor replied with a smile and they all lapsed back into silence.

With the time they were set up to be picked up and driven over, they found themselves stuck in the middle of New York lunch time traffic. Something so spectacularly, mind bogglingly, terrible that even Yuuri had to work to keep the tired huffs and expressions to himself, trying his best to keep a small smile on his face as the driver of the van continued to converse with him all the way from the airport to the hotel they would be staying at, thankfully leaving Yuri to his own devices, particularly his music that was blaring as he stared out the window and tried his hardest to stay awake. 

Victor piped in every couple of sentences, multitasking between being in the conversation with updating Yakov with where they were and everything else that would be happening, while also responding to the remaining emails he had put off on the flight. 

They were a little over ten minutes away when Victor had finally put his phone down, nudging Yuri to get himself ready. 

There would be cameras. Lot of them, and they needed to be ready. Rub the sleep out of their eyes and be ready to stick together and get inside the building as fast as they could. No mistakes. Especially because they would be the last ones showing up, unable to come until the day of unlike everyone else who had arrived a day or two beforehand to beat the jetlag. 

They’d have to be on their toes and ready to go with everyone else. 

Which was how the press managed to snap a photo of all three of them smiling all in the same picture with Victor looking back as Yuuri looked to have his free arm almost wrapped around Yuri’s shoulder as they were mid conversation, laughing at something, probably something Victor had said. 

That one had gone straight to Yakov from Victor himself who was _still_ thanking the deities above for his little uncoordinated near trip from having been noticed, replaced with something nice instead. It had been a long trip and they were all tired. But it was a good way to start.

————

“God. These freshmen are so fucking annoying.” Leo was the first one to notice the stiff conversation going on somewhere near where the group stood, warming up. 

“I know, right? Do they not know how to read? They can’t be _that_ dense.” 

Phichit and Yuri followed suit pulling out their earbuds as they caught on to the stares. 

“What happened?” Yuri turned to Phichit who shrugged. 

They saw Leo’s brows furrow, uncharacteristic frown deepening as the conversation continued near the lockers a few meters away. 

“Oi, dude. We should wait until Vince gets here. You know how the coach gets about _‘gracious professionalism’_ the mocking tone fit well with the mop of overly bleached blonde hair. The person in question rolled his mean brown eyes before looking away with a scoff. 

“Nah, fuck that. It’s basically an upperclassmen practice anyway. They should even be here. That’s why there was a note on the door.” the blonde’s brunette friend scowled, shoving up his sleeves, head held high as he stormed over, giving the group a judgemental once over. 

_Oh._ This was going to be _interesting…_

Yuri and Phichit moved with scary synchronization to buffer the brunette against Leo who looked apprehensive. Yuri didn’t like that at _all_ . He and Phichit might not have fully heard what the two had said, but if it was anything to make De la Iglesia tick, it was probably something not very nice, and that just _wasn’t_ going to fly. 

“Are you fucking _illiterate_?” the brunette stepped dangerously close to Leo’s face. That was his first mistake as Phichit pulled the boy back behind him, squaring up against the brunette who didn’t step down. 

“What did you say?” Chulanont hissed, tilting his head just so, eyes narrowing in building anger. 

“I said-” the oblivious brunette repeated with a scowl

“-are you _fucking illiterate_ ? Can you _read_?” 

Phichit scoffed indignantly. 

“Yes. We all can. In multiple languages. What’s it to you?” 

“Did you not read the note on the door?” the blonde was back, pulling his friend to ease off. 

“It said; **_Competition team practice_ **.” Phichit answered flatly. 

“Yeah. And none of you are on the team. There are only four of us and we’re all upperclassmen.” 

There was a beat of silence before Yuri dismissed the comment with an impatient wave. 

“Where is your coach?” Even Chulanont sounded surprised at how leveled he sounded, not like the angry hissing fire that so many of them were used to. Especially after having been derided. 

“What’s it to you, freshman? You’re not gonna be able to skate anyway.”

“I’m not a freshman.” Yuri bit out. 

“I don’t give a shit. You should get lost.” the brunette mocked, arms crossed as he leveled Yuri with a blue eyed sneer. 

Something that had Yuri’s knuckles white from how tight he was balling his fist. 

“I’m not doing this.” he turned to Phichit, gesturing for the group to get back to their bags. 

“That’s right. Get out.” 

Yuri froze before turning back to face the two. 

“I’m not fucking doing _that_ either.” 

He marched over to where his bag sat and grabbed it before marching to the door to the rink, and threw it open before making his way inside without further hesitation. 

Which wasn’t the best choice as the two rude skaters sprinted after him, grabbing him by his arm before jerking him roughly around. 

He ripped his arm out of their grip , stepping up to face the brunette face to face. 

“Did you not get the notice?” he hissed, staring into angry brown eyes. 

“Get out.” 

“I said, did you-”

“Get out before I throw you out.” 

Yuri scoffed, clearly affronted, his long blonde hair swung from where he had it in a tight braid, hands just itching to have a go.

“I’m not leaving. They’re not leaving. You two need to fucking deal with that. Talk to your coach if you don’t like it.” 

He turned back before the brunette caught him once more, this time by the hood, pulling him roughly around and within the span of a heart beat, much too fast for his blonde friend to catch him, he nailed Yuri dead on, right on the line where his right brow tailed sending him crashing into the boards behind him in a heartstopping second where he was sure he was going to roll his ankle. The brunette missed his kick as Phichit and Leo rushed in not a second later, jumping to restrain him as a sudden shrill whistle sounded. But while the kick _hadn’t_ landed squarely on Yuri’s shin like it was supposed it, it had popped him pretty hard on his left collarbone shaking a pained yelp from him. 

“Von Eugan! Whitlow! What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?!” 

And just like that, they realized they’d fucked up. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Yuuri. Champ. Friend. Eros incarnate. The most level headed th-”

“While I agree with all of those, Chulanont, Yuuri, the love of my life with the most amazing- ow! Okay. okay! Yuuri wants to know what you’ve done this time.” 

Phichit took the phone away from his ear to stare at it a moment before continuing, attempting to keep the wave of anger down as Yuri winced as he jostled the bag of ice on his collarbone, the one that was turning a gruesome shade of purple, spreading surprisingly far up his neck.

“You can tell him it wasn’t actually me this time. The police can vouch for me.” 

There was muffled sound on the other end before Yuuri came to the phone. 

“Excuse me? Did I just hear that correctly?!” 

“Yeah! I actually didn’t start anything this time.” 

“Phichit! Are you with the police right now? Why are there police officers where you are?!” 

“Because some idiot kid clipped Plisetsky on the face-” he winced as his eyes returned back to the dark bruise on Yuri’s collar.

“-and may have broken his collarbone.” 

“For fuckssake it’s  _ not  _ broken, Chulanont. Don’t freak him out!” 

“What?!” 

Yuuri heaved a sigh, pinching at the bridge of his nose to stop the sudden pressure behind his eyes. It was going to be a migraine. He could feel it already. The punch to the face didn’t help his case. 

“Okay, maybe not broken but for sure bruised at the very least.” 

He didn’t bat an eye at Yuri’s sudden flinch as the camera shutter went off, illuminated starkly against the flash looking paler than he did causing his  _ very  _ visible bruise to become even more obvious. It didn’t help that Yuri had snapped his attention to the phone in Phichit’s hand the moment he heard the familiar sound, eyes blown wide making him look far more out of it than he felt. He looked concussed and the butterfly bandages holding the wound over his brow together only cemented the whole look.

There was complete silence on the other end before the gathered group heard a  _ very  _ angry string of what sounded like Russian curses followed by the slamming of a door and running. 

“Where are you guys?” Yuuri sounded eerily calm compared to the outburst that had come from Victor. 

“At the school rink. They want to know if Plisetsky wants to press charges.” 

“We’ll discuss that when we get there. We’ll be there soon.”

The line disconnected, plunging the room into a chilly silence.

* * *

They were all seated around the rink’s viewing area on the second floor, the two instigators on one side with their coach and the three on the other with the police sitting on the side between the two groups on the U shaped seating area. 

“Oh damn… he’s not happy.” Phichit craned his head just in time to see Yuuri try and smother his fury into an expression of cool connectedness dressed in dark pajama pants with his thick winter coat thrown over, complete with a beanie that most likely hid his sleep mused bed head. 

Yuri scoffed leaning back a little before turning to Phichit, readjusting his ice pack. 

“Just wait until you see Victor.” 

And see he did. See and prayed to whatever god was listening that the Russian stereotypes were wrong because the man looked ready to gut the two with his own bare hands and possibly with Plisetsky’s skates. He looked like a member of the goddamn  _ mob _ was what he looked like in even in joggers and a hoodie with a coat thrown over. Like someone had drawn him out of bed with the worst news possible right before he was drifting. Tired lines gave way to pinched lines of checked fury as he and Yuuri all but glided over to the three. Victor wasted no time in situating himself behind Yuuri who looked up rolling his tired eyes, making sure the man knew that he was fine. A little sore and bruised but definitely not enough to make him feel like causing a scene would be warranted. Especially because it was late and this had the potential of spiralling into something big, something he was  _ not  _ about to let happen on day  _ one _ .

“Explain, please.” Yuuri perched himself with his arms crossed onto the back of the seat where Phichit sat, settling his friend with an expectant stare.

“We came to the rink, you know, since they said we could share. Got to stretching and then  _ those  _ two decided there was a problem and confronted us, actually, no, they went for Leo first.” 

Yuuri’s eyes flickered to the two who sat wide eyed staring down at the ground with a surprising intensity as they realized just how bad their situation was starting to look, beginning with the hissed knowledge they’d gotten from their coach who practically dragged them over to the far corner to tell them just  _ who  _ it was they had assaulted. He pointed the other two out as well, reminding them about the event that  _ their  _ school was hosting with  _ world champion  _ skaters, one of whom they may have injured into possibly resign from the upcoming competition only weeks away. Their fears were doubled the moment their coach had pointed out just who would be coming to try and fix things. 

All in all, they were fucked. 

“You’re telling me that  _ they-”  _ Yuuri nodded to the two who were avidly avoiding his eye “-ganged up on  _ Leo _ ? Is that right?” he turned his attention to Leo who looked back in wide eyed wariness, hands up in an attempt to quell the building anger. 

“It-uh, it was a misunderstanding, I’m sure they didn’t mean to um… to be so blunt.” he chuckled worriedly looking between Victor and Yuuri whose expressions darkened. 

“You mean  _ hostile _ .” Phichit corrected with a shrug. 

“Wha-” Leo began before Phichit cut in, turning to face Yuuri. 

“It was for sure hostile, not blunt. They were ready to throw hands with Yuri, I wouldn’t be surprised if they would have punched Leo as well.” 

“He pulled Leo out of the way.” Yuri added, nodding in agreement. 

“So they were on Leo and then you, Phichit, pulled him out of the way and then?” 

“And then we had a few words and Plisetsky was not having it so he was just like-” Phichit shrugged. 

“And then he grabbed his bag and marched into the rink through those double doors downstairs.” 

Leo nodded as Yuuri’s eyes flickered to him before settling back on Phichit. 

“And then those two went after Yuri and we were right behind but we got there right as he-” Phichit pointed to the brunette “-threw a punch and it landed. Yuri went backwards, almost rolled his ankle and that’s when we caught the guy but he kicked out but missed Yuri’s shin.”

“He ended up kicking Yuri’s collarbone really hard though.” Leo finished with a shudder at the memory. 

“And then the coach came and broke it up and here we are.” 

There was a beat of silence before Victor spoke, prompting all eyes on him. 

“And you didn’t throw a single punch?” he put his hands on Yuri’s shoulder in a protective way. 

“No. I didn’t” 

“He really didn’t. Didn’t lay a finger on either of them until that guy grabbed on to him. And he only shrugged him off at that point too. He was the one who asked where the coach was instead of fighting and he was the one who told them he wasn’t dealing with their bullshit. And even when they grabbed him inside he told them to get their coach instead of doing whatever they were.” 

Victor quirked a brow at Yuri who rolled his eyes with an indignant huff. 

“It’s day  _ one  _ for fuckssake. I’m not about to start shit. I don’t  _ need  _ another Yakov/Lilia joint seminar on  _ mannerism _ .” he mocked, scowling. 

“And besides, I told you I’m not about to start anything with people my age. I don’t need that headache.” 

Victor and Yuuri shared a silent look before looking toward the coach who straightened up immediately. 

“On behalf of the skating team and the school I’d like to extend my deepest apologies as their coach. They weren’t thinking or behaving as they should have been.”

“Just out of curiosity, how old are they?” 

“Um...twenty? Twenty one?” the two nodded. 

“Twenty.” the blonde answered. 

“I see.” Victor looked back to Yuri, face unreadable. 

“Well, Yura. It’s up to you. What do you want?” 

“I  _ want _ to either get on the ice or get back to the hotel. I’m not about to spend all night filing anymore paperwork.” 

The coach breathed a sigh of relief before leveling the two with an angry glare. 

“The joint ice time still stands if you all are interested. It’ll be four of us, seven altogether if that’s okay.” 

Yuri nodded. 

“Actually, there is one thing.” 

All eyes were on him. 

“None of this leaves the rink. I don’t want to see  _ any  _ sort of news on it. No “inside contacts” or “alleged” anything.” 

“We can  _ definitely  _ make sure of that.” the coach nodded. 

“And Yakov does  _ not  _ hear about this, you hear me?!” 

Victor quirked a brow, head tilting marginally as he surveyed Yuri for a moment before smiling. 

“I expect a doctor’s note before we step foot on that plane.” 


	3. Chapter 3

A hush fell over the rink the moment Yuri stepped through the glass doors, as the skaters already on the ice scrambled double time to their coach for answers as to what was going to happen. They were skating during the free slot slated for the charity event skaters, after all. It just happened that everyone  _ but  _ Yuri decided to skip that slot to rest. they  _ were  _ technically mid season, and no one wanted to risk an injury from jet lag and overall fatigue. And in all honesty, Yuri was planning to do the same. That was, before he woke up an hour ago to a fuck ton of notifications from different social media apps, calls, and texts. 

_ That  _ had definitely caught his attention, shaking him roughly out of the last dredges of his jet lagged sleepiness. 

Of- _ fucking _ course they’d blabbed. He wasn’t even sure as to why he had any sort of hope to begin with from his  _ extensive  _ knowledge of people in his age bracket. 

“Mr. Plisetsky! I’m so sorry. We weren’t expecting anyone to show…” the coach said apologetically. 

“It was a last minute decision.” Yuri replied neutrally.

“We need to talk.” 

Yuri wordlessly tapped on the instagram app before handing it over. The coach’s brow inched further and further closer together as he scrolled, reading through post after post of the situation that had happened the night before. There were even photos as well, obviously taken from a distance and in secret. 

“I requested one thing.  _ One.  _ For everyone to keep their mouths shut.” he stiffened, making solid eye contact with the man, and from what the coach could see in the raging storminess of Yuri’s eyes opposed to his neutral expression, it was  _ for sure  _ not going to be a pleasant conversation. 

“Oh my god…I-I am  _ so  _ sorry, Mr. Plisetsky. We had a team meeting last night and I made it clear to everyone to keep hush about what had happened. I can’t believe they would do something so immature and unprofessional-” the coach rushed looking genuinely apologetic. But it was early in the morning and in all honesty, Yuri wasn’t really in the mood to retain his normal level of professionalism. No. he was feeling a little  _ too  _ tired for that. 

“And yet here we are, mid competition season with accusations of physical harassment.” his words took on a sharp edge. Of course he’d had bad press before. People picking apart his costumes. His artistry. His technical abilities. The overall competition. That was nothing.

But this?

_ This _ was unacceptable. 

“In all honesty, I don’t care about criticism, however unconstructive. People say things about my skating all the time. But I will  _ not  _ tolerate this sort of attack on my character, no matter how desperate for attention they were.” 

Silence descended between the two as Yuri let the words sink in. 

“So I’m here to inform you that Chulanont is probably going to start a revenge plot or something like that, and when he does, Nikiforov is more than likely going to join in. I just felt like letting you know beforehand so you can properly brace yourselves and figure out your survival strategy would be the gracious thing to do.” he shrugged, reigning the bubbling anger in. He was done with the entire situation, but he wasn’t  _ that  _ done. He knew better than to give them any more ammunition to hurl at him. 

“O-oh…?” 

“So keep that in mind.” he gave the rink behind where the coach stood one last look-over before turning on his heels and walking back toward the door. 

“Oh, one last thing.” he stopped abruptly and glanced over his shoulder. 

“If I see blondie over there post that video he’s been filming, I  _ will  _ press charges for what happened last night. Miss me with that sneaky shit.” he directed the end to where the blonde stood mid ice, fumbling with his phone before nearly dropping it in surprise. 

And then he walked out, blissfully unaware of the utter chaos Chulanont was setting into motion at that very moment in his hotel room bed.

“CHULANONT YOU ARE A DEAD MAN. YOU HEAR ME? DEAD!” the blonde snapped to Phichit’s nonchalance as the door clicked shut. 

“He gave a  _ fake  _ story. I only called him out on it.” 

“You didn’t call him out. You posted that photo!”

“Yeah, and it  _ clearly  _ shows that you weren’t in the wrong. And technically speaking, I did call him out in the comments.” 

“That was a shit photo.  _ Way  _ out of proportion to what happened!” 

“He fractured your collarbone, Plisetsky!  _ And  _ you had a concussion.” 

“Again, not  _ that  _ bad!” 

“Are you serious right now?!” 

“Yes. I am! I’m on the brink of being benched for the upcoming competition,  _ and  _ Nikiforov and Katsuki are on a fucking rampage. All because some little shit decided to post something unnecessary!” 

“I regret nothing.” Chulanont crossed his arms defensively with a pout. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you do or not! I need you to fix this!” 

“Okay. okay. Sheesh. Could have just started with that.” 

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, gripping his hands into fists and counted to ten. 

“You’ve got two hours before we all have to get over to the rink.” 

And with that he stormed out.

Two hours. 

_ Two. _

He’d just have to curl up in his bed and wait it out.

“You know, Yura. now that he mentioned it, you really  _ are  _ far more graciously professional than kids your age.” Victor plopped down on the bed next to the lump under the heavy duvet. 

“Right? I’m glad  _ someone  _ finally said it.” Yuuri seated himself on the armchair near the bed, scrolling through his feed for more articles. 

There was a muffled scream and spasm of movement followed by a stream of unintelligible words that were most likely Russian from under the duvet before the room was quiet once more. 

“You’ve got to speak up. We didn’t catch any of that.” Victor managed with a straight face before chuckling, probably having caught a few snippets.

“I said-” Yuri emerged from under the blankets to sit up, hair sticking up like a frazzled mane, looking like he was ready to either deck someone or yeet himself out of the window. 

“I’m going to kill Chulanont with my bare hands.” it was said so solemnly that the two older skaters could help the fit of laughter that overtook them at the entire sight. 

“I’m gonna kill him and then I’m gonna get the little shits that started this mess. I fucking tell him to fix this shit and  _ this  _ is what he does!?” 

“Oh but, Yura. You’ll have to reschedule to next week because that sports magazine that trashed your LP last season want to have an apology interview this Friday. They said they’ve  _ obviously  _ misjudged your character and overall artistry.” Victor smirked. 

“And Yakov wants to have a serious talk about the  _ ‘overly heavy and tragic emotional baggage _ ’ you’ve been carrying.” 

The two made eye contact once more before collapsing into hysterics once more. 

“You-you should have-” Victor managed to giggle out. 

“-should have told us about your ‘ _ deep rooted heart for helping young and aspiring skaters _ ’. I’m sure Yakov would have  _ loved  _ your help with the junior skaters and goodwill open ice camp.” he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes.

“Oh, but we can’t forget-” Yuuri pulled up the recent interview on his phone. 

“-about your ‘ _ inner turmoil over whether or not soldiering through the excruciating pain and trauma would be the best course of action. _ ’ and how you,  _ ‘worry about how your decisions will influence younger skaters into making reckless decisions _ ’ because you  _ ‘want to use your platform to promote both sportsmanship and self love in terms of being the best but also knowing your body’s boundaries’  _ right?” 

Yuri narrowed his eyes before chucking a pillow at Yuuri’s face, which only prompted more laughter. 

“Remind me to send Chulanont a bottle of good vodka when we get home.” Victor took a giggly breath. 

“Because  _ that _ was beautiful. I think we should buy a copy of the magazine in print when it gets printed and frame the interview.”

“For fuckssake!” 

“Now now, Yura. That’s not a good example to set for those younger and aspiring skaters!” 

__

**Author's Note:**

> *Possible future one-shot!


End file.
